


On Fire's Gentle Shore

by justwanderingneverlost



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A Dream of Spring, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Honeymoon, Jonerys Week Summer 2018, Naath, Targling, outdoor smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-23 23:20:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14943243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justwanderingneverlost/pseuds/justwanderingneverlost
Summary: This one shot is post season 8. Dany and Jon are ruling Westeros and escort Missandei back to her home in Naath.





	On Fire's Gentle Shore

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meisie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meisie/gifts).



> Hi all . . . welcome to the great experiment of collaboration! Thank you, JustWanderingNeverLost for putting up with manic writing sprints, crazy word changes, chaos and the general mayhem that is my excited brain. WHAT'S OUR NEXT STEP???? –Sparkles59
> 
> Hey from me too! I have to give a HUGE thank you to, Sparkles59 for blessing me with her amazing talent and friendship. This loveliness would not be nearly as lovely without her. I had a ball, Sparks, and can't wait to do it again! <3 Thank you for putting up with my whinging and snail like pace! - JustWanderingNeverLost
> 
> Hope everyone enjoys this holiday with our King and Queen as we did, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MEISIE!!! WE LOVE YOU!!!

Seas as smooth as glass for as far as she could see, endless and shining water to the edge of the world where it kissed the sky.

She holds the deck railing, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her bare back and the top of her head, the light silk of her skirts swirling around her legs from the slight breeze, humid and ripe with the heady essence of the ocean.

"Land, My Queen," her captain announces, coming to stand near her, pointing off toward the western horizon.

"I'll take your word for it," she tells him with humor. "I see only air and water."

"I see fire," Jon tells her, reaching around and spanning her waist with his free arm, their babbling, nearly walking baby girl on his other. “Only fire.”

Dany feels her heart welling up and she smiles at him as Jaena reaches out from her father’s grasp for her mother. “Mummmm,” she sighs, and Dany steps back from the rail to take her. 

“Hello, my sweetheart,” she whispers, kissing her flushed cheeks before admiring her dark curls, coiled into long ringlets from the humidity. “You look like you had a good nap.” She looks over at Jon questioningly, her concern plain. “You?”

“A little,” he admits. “But it’s too hot to get much, though.”

She leans against him as the thin line of green finally comes into view. Missandei reaches Dany’s other side and touches her hand, which Dany gladly gives, taking hold and squeezing her friend’s hand in greeting. “You’re nearly home,” she whispers with a happy sigh. 

“I am,” Missandei agrees softly. “I never thought I’d live to see it again.”

The coast grows larger in front of them, green and jagged volcanic mountains and a pristine beach with golden sand, reminding Dany of the exotic green emerald, set in delicate gold, that had been gifted to her on their coronation day. “It’s beautiful,” she breathes. 

Ser Davos approaches and claps Jon on the shoulder. “Your Graces, we’re ready to board the dinghy to go ashore,” he invites. He reaches over and touches Jaena lightly on the nose, and she giggles and squirms to reach for him.

“Pa,” she tells Dany clearly, reaching for Davos again.

“Come ‘ere, lil’ darlin’,” he coos, Dany happy to give Jaena over to her doting grandfatherly figure. “We’ll get Mum into the boat and you can take her back.” He puts her down onto her own two feet and gives her his thumbs to grasp as she wobbles with the sway of the deck. “You’ll have sea legs before you learn to walk on land,” he chuckles.

After a partially organized shuffling of bodies in a small boat, they’re rowed to shore. Jaena rediscovering her favorite game of crawling from Jon’s lap to Dany’s in an endless loop, laughing as she enjoys her freedom. 

“Look over there.” Jon points at the jutting rocky outcrop near the shore, providing the sandy beach with some protection from the harsher waves. “Is that . . . those are some sort of ruins, aren’t they?”

“This used to be part of the Valyrian Freehold,” Dany tells him. “Before the Doom and slavers came. It’s made from the same rock as Dragonstone, if I remember rightly.”

“Want to go look at it?” he asks, curious.

Dany, conflicted, simply shrugs. “If we have time, though I’ll not go out of my way to see it. Such a different time, Jon. I’d rather not give an indication that we wish to return to that.” His soft stroke of hand on her shoulder reassures her and she knows he understands what she means. 

They approach the shore, so Jon catches Jaena up easily and smothers her cheeks with kisses before he helps Dany from the boat, passing her the baby once her feet are solidly on the sand. She looks around at the vivid, wet green of the palms and mango groves that edge the sandy shore, a cloud swirling amongst them. “Jon?” she calls out, uncertain. 

Daenerys shifts Jaena in her arms as the cloud comes closer. Moving as though a living being it flows down the hill and blends into the trees, melting and pouring down to the beach in a single mass. She sucks in her breath as she realizes what she’s seeing . . . _butterflies_. 

Jon moves to stand next to her, his shoulder against hers, as the cloud engulfs them. Wings like jewels, reds and oranges as livid as the sun, blues and purples and even green . . . one with wings clear as glass lands on her baby’s face, others fluttering around them before they land on clothing and bare skin alike. Tiny legs cling to her, scratchy and stiff, and the world stops. 

_What is this?_

Dany turns to look at Missandei, similarly covered, but she’s laughing, holding her hands out in supplication, crying and laughing as she calls out to the Lord of Harmony, that her friends have brought her home, rescued her from slaver’s chains and brought her home for as long as she would stay. 

As though of one mind, the butterflies all let them go, hovering around them for a mere breath before leaving, flying back the way they had come. 

Missandei approaches them, slipping her hand into Dany’s just as she had done on board the ship. “You’re safe to come ashore,” she says softly, her voice sweet with a lilt of pure joy. “You’re in no danger here.”

A wail erupts from the trees, human, and such a cry from the heart that Dany can’t tell whether it’s of joy or sorrow. People start emerging from the forest’s edge, as beautifully brown and golden-eyed as her best friend. 

The first to approach is an elderly woman wrapped in a gown similar to a tokar in a brilliant blue, though both breasts were covered and it was pinned closed by a golden pin, the head spread out in the shape of butterfly’s wings, raw emeralds used to bring it to life. “Missandei,” she cries, and Grey Worm stiffens next to her, uncertain. The old woman turns to face the rest of the people waiting. “Missandei,” she cries louder, and the children cry back first, wailing her name as they rush her, hands petting and touching as they pull her into embraces, kisses to her arms and face, more hands caressing and tugging at her dress.

Dany’s face matches her friend’s, tears of joy and elation running freely down her face as she clutches Jaena closer. The elders approach and the children scatter in laughter as the adults take their turn, holding their lost child, cousin, sister, friend, her name a constant as they voice their greetings.

The elderly woman approaches Dany and reaches out with loving hands, patting Jaena’s chubby cheeks and pulling Dany toward her, their foreheads meeting in a heartfelt welcome for a moment before she withdraws, caressing Dany’s bright hair as she speaks. 

“She’s thanking you for bringing me home,” Missandei tells her, her voice recovering from her broken sob. “You have her blessing to stay for as long as you wish, and so are welcomed as family.”

Dany shakes her head, looking at the woman with a soft smile. “It was right for her to come home,” she says simply. “I have the power to do so, and I use it to make right whichever wrongs of the past that I can.”

Missandei quickly translates, and the old woman nods, smiling. “She says you are a true leader, caring for your people and doing what’s right over what is easy.” The woman gestures for them to follow her, and then Dany notices Jon, nearly hidden from her view by a crowd of young men. 

They’re shaking their heads and blocking him from following her. Alarmed, she stops and waits, and Missandei intercedes. “Longclaw, Jon,” she tells him. “We have no weapons here. It will need to be returned to the ship.”

Ser Davos reaches Jon’s side and holds his hands out. “I’ll return it,” he tells him quietly. “Stay with your wife and baby. They need you.”

Jon quickly unbuckles his belt and hands Davos the sword, pulling out the daggers hidden in his boot and behind his back, handing them both over as well. 

One young man jests and the rest laugh, slapping Jon on the back and neck, pushing him forward to join Dany. “Hamador says you wear too many clothes,” Missandei tells him helpfully.

“I feel it in this heat,” Jon admits. “Though I have nothin’ lighter.”

Missandei nods with a smile, tilting her head toward the young man in question. “Silk is preferred in the heat, or linen. This island was the main source of silks and linens for many generations before the slavers started coming for us. I’m certain we can find you something cooler to wear, Your Grace.”

Jaena reaches for her beloved Missandei, smiling and babbling as Dany passes her over, relieved. “She’s getting so heavy,” she murmurs.

“Nearly time for her to be on her own two feet,” Missandei agrees.

“I can’t hear you,” Jon teases. “She’s my baby and will be carried.”

“Then come claim her yourself,” Missandei jests back. 

“Too hot,” he groans, but reaches for Jaena just the same. “Come ‘ere, my fat lil’ pup.”

“Da,” she sighs, clinging to his neck and sucking on her fingers, though as they enter the canopy of the forest, she pushes away to look up and around. Dany gazes up into the trees, the sunset beginning to glow fiery orange and red from the craggy mountain tops as she glimpses snippets of the sky from between the broad leaves above her.

The bare earth gives way to smoothly crafted stone steps, and a stone path. Dany steps up, Missandei at her side, and a village of raised, circular huts surrounds them, roofed with palm fronds nearly a meter thick. 

Dany stops, unable to keep walking and admiring at the same time. Open breezeways throughout the huts are filled with hangings of silk, every color imaginable, designs and florals she’s never heard of, let alone seen. 

“It’s beautiful,” she sighs, turning her cheek to catch the breeze from the shore on her face, the silks flapping and swirling in the wind. She feels as though she’s floating in a dream with the warm and humid air caressing her bare arms like her lover’s kiss. 

The elderly woman gestures further into the village and beckons them to follow, speaking rapidly as she walks.

“She says to follow her. She knows of a hut in need of people to stay,” Missandei explains. “The village calls her Tutu, which means grandmother. She would like it if you do the same.”

They pass large wooden racks and copper vats hanging over fires, battered and beaten, large enough to be used as bathtubs, leaves and berries piled near each one. “Dyes for the silk,” Missandei explains. “The best dyes for the best silks.”

Dany glances back at Jon, who is busily indulging their baby as she babbles to the people around her. “We need to set up trade agreements,” she says quickly to Missandei. “Find out what Naath needs or wants that Westeros has. Warmer weather is coming and I’d love to have a part of your home wrapped around me while you’re gone.”

Missandei only smiles and gestures for Dany to walk ahead, and they follow the elderly leader past the clusters of huts to a newer clearing in the trees, the stone pathways unfinished. 

Tutu stops outside a hut, the logs still bright with sap and fresh to the air. She nods and points to it with a wide smile, and Dany smiles in return and climbs the two split log steps and then inside. 

The interior is dark and cooler than she expected. Missandei follows her in and points to the silk draperies. “Wet them down to make it cooler if you need,” she says softly. She points to the floor near the back of the hut. “Sleeping mats. Take some rest.”

“Your family,” Dany agrees with a happy sigh. “Go be with them. I’ll find you in the morning.”

 

\---

 

Soft babbling and the sharp tugs of a small fist buried in his hair wake him. As he’s done nearly every morning for the past year, he rolls to his side and greets his daughter with a smile. Her violet eyes sparkle and squint as she smiles back around the wet chubby fingers stuffed in her mouth. 

“Good mornin’, my lil’ love,” he whispers, leaning over and kissing a round cheek flushed pink from the Naathi heat. 

As he gently fingers her riot of dark curls into submission, a slobbery hand pats his face. “Da da da,” she chants, her usual morning greeting. 

Daenerys stirs behind her, turning towards them with a slow deep breath. Jaena rolls over with a gurgle, her mother's breasts now receiving a few pats. “Mmmmmuumm, mmmuumm.”

“Yes, my love. Breakfast time,” Dany murmurs, eyes never opening as she settles their daughter with practiced ease to her breast. 

The sweet sounds of Jaena's breaths and swallows fill the space between them and Jon can't help the fullness within his chest, despite the familiar sight. His whole world is lying beside him, both safe and content. 

He takes Dany’s hand from where it rests on Jaena's back and brings it to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her fingers. She slips it free of his grasp after a moment only to place it upon his cheek, her thumb brushing just under his eye. 

Her own finally flutter open to meet his. “Good morning, Da.”

“Mornin’ Mum. Sleep well?”

“Mmmm humm. Yesterday must have made me more tired than I thought,” she whispers, before a jaw cracking yawn overtakes her. “Did you?”

He nods, even though he tossed and turned the entire night. Taking her hand in his again he links their fingers. “For the most part. Might take me awhile to adjust to the heat.”

A sleepy grin lights her face. “My poor Northern lad. Should we spend the day in the seas keeping you cool?”

“No,” he laughs softly, shaking his head. Jaena releases her mum, craning her curly head back to look at him, grin wide, her tiny teeth shining. He tickles her chin. “Da would bake like bread, wouldn't he, lil’ lass?” She giggles, but quickly goes back to her breakfast. 

He gazes at Daenerys, sleep mussed and beautiful as she stares at their daughter, and a urgent want rushes up to grasp him. “I have another idea.”

Her eyes flick to his. “Oh, what might that be?” she asks, intrigued, that smile she keeps hidden in the corner of her mouth peeking through. 

He moves closer, finding a bare thigh and running a hand up to a rounded hip. “You and me, alone. Just the two of us for the day, perhaps the night too. I miss you,” he admits, staring into the lilac eyes he loves so much. “Your touch, your wet velvet mouth, the feel of you under my hands, your breath against my neck while I'm buried between your thighs.”

“Jon,” she breathes. It was meant to be a scolding he’s sure, but he knows the look on her face too well.

He says the only thing he can. “Please.”

An unladylike snort escapes her as she rolls her eyes before reaching for him, her hand running up his ribs, sending a pleasing shiver through him despite the heat. “There’s no need for all that. As if I’d ever tell you no. But maybe just for the day?” she asks, the unease in her eyes tugging at his heartstrings. “I'm not sure any of us are ready for a night away from each other.”

“Alright, I think I can work with that,” he agrees, unable to cause her an ounce of distress. “Let's see, that gives us…” He holds his hands up, dropping his fingers one at a time, and counting, “Eight, nine, ten hours?” he asks, his hopeful expression more than a little exaggerated. “I have a whole list of things we can get to in that amount of time.”

“Oh, stop it you.” She giggles, shoving his shoulder. “Let her finish and I’ll take her down to m-i-s-s-y as soon as she’s done,” she concedes, her grin wicked and promising.

He grasps her neck, bested but victorious too, pulling her close and kissing her soft lips, drawing in that warm scent that is only hers while fighting the urge to deepen it until they're both spent and sweaty. 

Then a third set of lips joins theirs, open and wet and giggling against their chins.

After a fit of shared laughter, Jaena finishes her morning meal then squirms through a fresh change of clothes. Having dressed and readied himself for the day, Jon scoops his cherub into his arms. “Come on, my fat lil’ pup.” 

“Where are you going?” Dany asks. 

“Breakfast, love,” he tells her, kissing her cheek. “You get some more rest and we'll be back soon.” Then their sweet girl gets her own kisses from Da, loud, exuberant ones against her neck that leave her squealing and breathless. “Want to go find Aunty Dei and Wa Wa?” he whispers to her once her giggles cease.

“Dee!” she yells, clapping her little hands, feet kicking. “Wa Wa!”

“Yes, Dei and Wa Wa. Tell Mum bye,” he says, kissing his fingertips and blowing Dany a kiss. 

Jaena smacks her whole hand against her open mouth, before flinging it towards her mum. “Muah!”

Laughing again, her violet eyes nearly lost to her happiness, Daenerys pretends to catch both kisses before sending them back. “Bye, my sweet loves. Have fun.”

 

\---

 

“This will do,” she murmurs to herself with a smirk. The silks swish and swirl around her as she tugs the dress over her head and adjusts the wide blue collar before she fastens the clasp hidden between her breasts. The days in Westeros were slowly getting warmer, but nothing nearly warm enough yet where she could entertain the thought of wearing this particular dress at home. Her smirk grows wider; she knows Jon is going to be stunned by her exposed midriff and cleavage. 

She looks down at her flattened belly and palms her flesh. She’s still not managed to get all the way back to her figure, though Jon keeps insisting he loves that she has a bit of flesh to her hips now. He often grabs them for emphasis, tugging her back against him suggestively and murmuring filthy things in her ear.

“Where in Seven Hells did you get that?” Jon demands from the doorway, startling her. She spins around to face him and he groans. “Please tell me that’s new.”

“It’s not, sorry,” she tells him assertively. “It’s from Meereen.”

He saunters toward her and reaches out, sliding his hand beneath the blue straps holding the skirt in place against her hips. “I look forward to seeing you in this more,” he finally tells her, grinning.

“Not warm enough in the Red Keep yet to bring out most of my things to wear,” she reminds him. “Or else I would torment you every day with something new.”

“If torment looks like a goddess, then I willingly yield,” he chuckles, pulling her close to kiss her. “I bring an offering of food for you. Missy and Grey Worm are feeding Jaena some bits of fruit outside.”

Hungry and interested, she looks over his shoulder at the mat near the entrance. Unidentifiable fruits and nuts are heaped in bowls made from coconut shells. “Thank you,” she breathes. 

“Hungry mum needs to eat to make more milk,” he comments as she eagerly sits and picks up one of the bowls. She looks into it, tilting her head to identify the contents. _Mangoes, coconut . . . lychee?_ She picks up one of them, the creamy white flesh nearly pink in some places, and takes a small bite. Perfumy and slightly sweet, slightly tart on the tongue . . . _lychee. Delicious._ Smiling at Jon, she consumes the rest of the fruit pinched between her fingers before moving to a slice of mango. 

“Come try it,” she urges. 

“I need something more . . . substantial or I’m gonna be shittin’ my guts out by the time we leave,” he groans and she chuckles at him. “Don’t they eat meat here?” he asks.

“No meat,” she tells him. “They do not believe in violence in any form, nor harming any living creature. The best you could hope for is some type of potato, though I wouldn’t hold out for the evening meal to find out. There’s nuts and seeds, though. They’ll serve the same purpose as meat.”

He whistles through his teeth, but sits next to her and picks up his own bowl, uncertain. “Like this,” she instructs, pinching food between nimble fingers and feeding him a bite of her mango. 

The look of surprise on his face makes her smile happily. “It’s good,” he says approvingly, looking back down at his bowl. “I’ve never had anything like this before.”

“Wait until the Crownlands can grow melons,” she remarks. “I doubt any would have survived the trip North before spoiling.”

“No, but we had apples and pears,” he tells her. “When the summer is long enough and warm enough, we get cherries and plums, too. Hops are good . . .”

She scoffs. “Not to eat,” she exclaims, making a face as her stomach cringes slightly at the thought, the sheer bitterness of hops permeating her memory. “And ale is questionable as it is.”

He chuckles and shakes his head at her. “One of the finer things in life that still evades you,” he teases. 

“And I have no desire to pursue it,” she quips. 

_Especially now, my love._

 

\---

 

“How are you finding Naath?” Missandei asks, making herself comfortable on the split log step next to where Dany is sitting.

“I love it here; peace just . . . melts into my very bones,” she tells her, her eyes not breaking away from Jon and their baby girl. He’s bent over, holding her hands as she toddles around in her desperation to keep up with the other children playing in the open common area between huts, shrieking and laughing to get their attention. 

“There’s a place you and Jon should see before you go,” she murmurs, giving Dany a roll of raw silk. “A map. We have a pair of ponies coming to carry your things if you would like to go. The morning sun rising off the shore is worth watching from that vantage point.”

“What about the baby?” Dany asks, worry seeping into her voice.

“Jon said you both wanted a day to yourselves, and we want more time with her before you leave so I promised him that we’d take her for the night too,” Missandei assures her, stroking her arm lightly. “She’ll not have time to miss you.”

Dany hesitates, uncertain. She’s never left Jaena for a whole night before. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am,” Missandei giggles. “We’re going to play with the other children until she falls asleep on her feet. Here, here he comes.”

A young boy with dark curls and golden brown eyes grins at them, flashing white teeth and an easy smile, two horses lazily following his lead. He passes the lead ropes to Dany and his hand lingers on hers, stroking her pale skin with a tentative finger before pulling away and pointing to her hair. With a smile, she pulls a long tendril of her hair loose from her braid and holds it toward him, his face a picture of awe as he touches her bright hair for an instant before he becomes shy and ducks behind the horses then runs away.

Jon approaches, Jaena happily reaching for the horses from his arms. “What’s all this?” he asks, shifting the baby over so she can pet the horse’s poll. 

“For our trip,” Dany explains. “This way we can go overnight.”

He looks at her in surprise. “I didn’t think you’d really consider overnight, love,” he says gently. “Only if you’re certain.”

“Go. Enjoy yourselves and a night of quiet,” Missandei urges, then gives Dany a pointed look and a knowing smile. Dany bites her lip then winks at her. _She already knows what I’m just now suspecting._

The horses are fitted with packs woven from silk and palm fibers, filled with water skins and fresh fruit. “You can use this to cut the fruit,” Missandei tells her, passing her a wooden slat honed down with a sharp end. “You can cut mangoes off the trees, too. Just be careful and wash away the sap; it’s poisonous.”

“Aye, well . . . let’s stick to what we’ve got then,” Jon intercedes. “I’ll not risk my Queen to poisoning.”

 

\---

 

The jungle surrounds them like a warm blanket, the air thick and heavy. An emerald sea of green streaked here and there with shafts of misty golden light where the sun manages to break through the dense canopy above. The black smell of dark damp earth wafts up to fill his nose, their horses stirring the wet dirt of the narrow path with each lazy clop of hoof.

A countless array of birds flit and flutter through the branches, each one a marvel to the eyes and ears, and the butterflies have joined them too. Not quite the cloud that found them yesterday, but dozens float along on silent wings, colorful sentinels seeming to guard their path, adding to the vivid assault on his senses.

Jon finds all of it oddly comforting. 

There's a peace that drifts throughout this place, almost like Dany’s soothing touch and how it never fails to quiet his restless mind. Drawing in a deep breath, he drops his head back, eyes falling closed and lets it all soak into his bones, the lumbering sway of the horse beneath him easing the last of the tension from his body. 

A soft and melodious chuckle brings him to attention a few moments later. He twists around, eyeing the beautiful intruder of his respite with a grin as she gazes back, unrepentant and still amused. 

“Are you melting, my delicate king?” she asks with a cheeky wink. “Should I ride beside you and help hold you in your seat? I’d hate for you to fall and injure yourself.”

Jon laughs, loud and long, disturbing the birds enough they flee in a riot of squawks and shrieks, sending a shower of leaves and feathers down around them. He places his hands on his horse's rump and using them as a pivot, spins his whole body around to face her. His ancient steed continues to plod forward, undisturbed by its rider’s acrobatics. 

“I am not melting,” he remarks, smirking at her raised brow. “I was only enjoying all of this.” He waves his hands around in a grand manner as if he’s a merchant showing off his wares. “Relaxing, saving my strength for... _other things_.”

She laughs then, spurring her mount into a faster gait to draw up alongside of him and leans over to kiss his smirking mouth. “Care to share what those _other things_ are?” she purrs, her nails trailing through his beard as she continues to nip and peck at his lips with teasing kisses. 

“No, you'll have to wait,” he murmurs, grasping her face and kissing her thoroughly, the itch to stop right where they are and take her almost maddening.

But soon a muffled roar pulls their attention away from one another, Dany stopping her horse. “What is that?” she asks, her pretty head tilted just so, straining to hear. 

With a wide smile, Jon spins back around, taking up his reins again and nudging his mount into a quicker pace. “Come on, we must getting closer,” he calls to her over his shoulder. 

“Closer to what? Where are you taking us?” she hollers back. 

It only takes a few minutes for her questions to be answered, the unmistakable roar of water drowning out all else as they break through the foliage to an awe-inspiring sight. 

A crystalline pool lies in front of them, nearly surrounded on all sides by a lofty circular wall of rock covered in bright green mosses and vines, and in the center of it, three brilliant white waterfalls plunge down the face to the waters below, throwing clouds of cooling vapor into the air. 

“Oh Jon, look. . .it’s. . . My gods it's beautiful,” Daenerys gasps beside him.

He’s sat like a stone upon his horse, the view leaving him dazed. Her hand grasps his arm, giving him a good shaking and breaking him from his trance. “Aye, it is. I’ve seen some things, but nothin’ like this,” he breathes out.

“Thank you for bringing us, love,” she squeals, like the young woman most seem to forget she is and jumps from her horse, running to the water, already slipping free of her sandals. 

He chuckles to himself, pleased beyond measure to have made her so happy then dismounts, hunting for a tree to tie the horses. 

As soon as he has them secure, and their blankets rolled out upon a nearby moss covered rock, he joins her where she stands at the edge of the pool, wrapping himself around her from behind. She leans back into him with a contented sigh, holding his arms close with her own. 

“I didn't know there were such places,” he marvels, the view still overwhelming. “Did you?”

She turns her face into his, smiling as she kisses his cheek. “Believe it or not, no,” she admits, gazing back at the waterfalls. “Parts of Essos were beautiful, in their own way. Most were very dry and brown. Some of the grasslands were green, but nothing like this, it's so dense and lush with all the trees and flowers, and it was rare to find this much fresh water. I must admit Naath is the most wondrous place I’ve ever seen.”

“Don't forget the butterflies and birds. More colors in those than I knew existed. If it hadn't been for the glass gardens, I’d have thought the whole world was nothin’ but shades of black and white growin’ up,” he teases. 

Dany rolls her eyes, laughing at him. He adores her like this, so free, all her queenly walls down, her happiness shining like the sun. He kisses her temple then he rests his chin on top of her braids. “Think we could just stay away, never go back?”

“Jon!” she scolds, “What about Jae?”

He chuckles at her outrage. “I meant Westeros, love. I’d never leave her, you know that.” He gives her a reassuring squeeze and another kiss to her hair. “But. . .we could all just get back on that boat and sail the world, seein’ all there is to see.”

She sighs, a whimsical yet forlorn sound. “That does sound lovely. Perhaps not very responsible. . .” She huffs. “Tyrion would not think highly of that idea, I’d imagine.”

Jon snorts into her hair. “Tyrion loves bein’ in charge.”

“I suppose you're right, but either way, I'm glad we're here, Jon. Seeing this, together.” She turns and places another kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He can't seem to stop pressing his lips to her creamy skin, so doesn’t bother trying, this time letting them find their way to her neck, then up to a dainty ear. “Don’t know what you’re thankin’ me for though. It was your idea to bring Missandei home.”

Her head falls back onto his shoulder, a deep hum slipping from her throat. “Mmmm, yes, but it was yours for all of us to come. And today was your idea as well. Our honeymoon,” she says, humming again, his attentions softening her usual restraints.

“I wouldn't have survived you both bein’ gone so long,” he confesses, his breathing growing harsh as he traps her earlobe between his teeth before letting it slide free. 

She squirms and mewls, sinking further into his embrace. “Your girls wouldn't have fared any better without you.”

“That’s good to know.” His hands have begun to wander, the vision she makes wrapped in her provoking dress, and all the smooth skin it leaves to his eye, finally too much to be ignored. “And speaking of our honeymoon. . .” he whispers, his mouth now at her shoulder as he slides a hand over her warm side and up to one of her breasts. He kneads it gently through the gathered fabric, enjoying her sighs and the way her lashes are fluttering against her flushed cheeks. He moves over to the other, slipping beneath the silk this time, his fingers easily finding a puckered nipple. He plucks it, then rolls it between his fingertips, soft and slow. Her body arches, a small hiss rushing from between her teeth. 

His cock, rock hard and straining, is rubbing against her bare back testing his control. He can't help but grind against her, his arm banded across her waist to hold her still. She reaches around, working her hand into the tight space between them, and strokes him through his thin linen trousers, gripping him in her palm. A growl escapes Jon’s throat, his other hand now delving below her navel and under the airy layer of silk, to reach what's hidden beneath, finding her smooth and swollen and slick.

“When’d you do this?” he asks gruff and muffled as he trails rough kisses up her neck, fingers still exploring her slippery folds.

“Before we left the ship,” she breathes, letting him go and reaching up, sliding a hand into his hair. Her nails scratch against his scalp to the nape of his neck, sending pleasing shivers down his spine. She knows his every weakness and uses them at will. “I had a few ideas of my own.”

“Did you now? And what might those be?” he asks, pinching her nub lightly between his fingers. 

“Jon.” His name leaves her lips as no more than a whimper. “I need you. Now, please,” she orders, as breathless as he is. 

The fire that had sparked between them nearly two years ago still burns bright and is now a swirl of flaming lust so strong it threatens to steal his senses, to steer him off course. He could push her down and take her and neither of them would regret it, but no. There's a plan and he’ll keep it.

He bites the smooth skin of her neck, asserting control once more, grinning at the gasp she draws in. He swipes his tongue across the tender flesh in apology then spins her around. Her eyes are milky amethysts, drunk with hunger as she looks up at him through heavy lashes.

“You’ll have me,” he tells her, his voice husky and deep even to his own ears. “But not yet. I’ve suffered your teasing for weeks on that bloody ship. Now you’ll suffer mine.”

Stepping back, he grabs the hem of his sweat dampened shirt and peels it off, flinging it onto some rocks beside her. His boots go next, a grin tugging his mouth up. She's a picture of want and frustration as she licks her plump bottom lip, one eyebrow raised in a seductive arch over glinting eyes that watch his every move. He works the laces of his trousers, slowly untying them then letting them drop to his feet before backing up.

“Where are your small clothes, Jon Snow?” she asks, stalking towards him, taking him in from head to toe in slow perusal. 

He shrugs, playing the innocent. “Must have forgotten them this mornin'.” Unwilling to let her get too close, he turns, quickly picking a dark spot within the pool, then dives in. 

The cool bracing waters engulf his heated body, sending a sudden invigorating rush through his system. He slowly kicks himself back to the surface, and flings back his unruly hair, wiping the water from his face. Another spectacular view greets him, this time his wife, naked, pale, and radiant, mystical as the moon where she stands upon the rock he lept from moments ago, fingers nimbly twisting her silver hair into a single braid. His heart beats a rapid cadence against his ribs, as if he's just spilled himself deep inside her. 

“You're so godsdamn beautiful,” he declares, unable to help himself.

She smiles like the vixen she is, lifting her slender arms up and somehow tying her hair in place. “So you say.”

“I do say. Now get your perfect arse in here woman and quit torturing me,” he demands.

Letting out a bubbling laugh, she dives in, popping up right in front of him, wet and sparkling like moonlight off snow. He goes to reach for her, but she ducks away, dashing him with a face full of water. He sputters, wiping his eyes clear once more as she giggles from somewhere close by. 

He spins around catching her easily, grabbing an ankle and pulling her towards him splashing and shrieking. He lifts her up and she promptly wraps her legs around his waist and arms about his neck as she laughs. He’s left dumbstruck, only able to stare at her like the lovesick fool he is as. 

_She is everything. His_ everything. 

He curses to the Seven Hells on the regular, but the thought has suddenly occurred to him that perhaps there are Seven Heavens as well and he holds them all in his arms. One in her sparkling lilac eyes, another in the crook of her warm fragrant neck, the next in her spine of steel, certainly one in her beautiful smile and bell like laughter, a fifth between her supple thighs, still another made from the fire and blood flowing within her veins, and the last, her heart. The one that loves him and their daughter with a love so deep and pure nothing could ever sway it. 

“Jon, what is it?” she asks smoothing her hands over his face, her brow wrinkled with concern.

“Nothin’, and everythin’,” he says, voice cracking traitorously. He leans his forehead against hers and she nuzzles into his face, her slender fingers stroking through his hair. He pulls her closer. “Sometimes I just. . . I can't believe I get to love you.” 

A soft breathy cry escapes her, her body tightening around his own. “Oh Jon. You know, I wonder the same thing almost every time I lay eyes on you.”

He pulls away, smirking. “Guess we're just two silly fools, huh?”

She grasps his chin, pulling him closer, her pretty face scrunched into a giddy snarl. “If it makes us fools, so be it, I still count us the luckiest fools alive.”

“Aye, me too,” he chuckles, kissing her. 

“The water feels sublime, doesn't it?” she whispers against his lips. Her eyes have become misty, and he knows the subject change is needed before she succumbs to her emotions. 

He runs his hands over every inch of her he can without letting her fall, her skin silkened and smooth beneath his calloused palms. “You're the one who feels sublime,” he murmurs, pulling her tighter, gripping a handful of her lovely arse as he attacks her slender neck with his hungry mouth.

Her fingers slip through his wet hair, only to grasp it and pull him away. “Oh no, you said I had to suffer, and that is not suffering. Let's swim.”

She takes off on him again, her lithe little body stretched out as she cuts a stream through the water, her arse peeking above the surface and sending sweet agony to rest heavy in his aching cock and stones.

Why in the Seven Hells did he think drawing this out was a good idea? 

“Come, my king!” she calls, already halfway across the pool.

“I’d like to come,” he mutters to himself, taking off after her. “Several times actually.”

 

\---

 

“How long are you going to torment us?” she asks, wiggling against his straining cock as they float as one in the shallows, worn out from all their play, both of them thrumming with need but too stubborn to be the one that breaks first.

“As long as we can stand,” he grunts, his hips grinding up into hers.

“Well, I can stand it no longer. Take me out of here,” she demands, biting at his bottom lip. 

“As my queen commands.” He grasps her by the thighs then stands them up, not wasting another moment. 

Taking her to their blankets, he sinks to his knees and gently lays her down. Her creamy thighs spread making room for him and he can't help but palm her arse and lift her pink weeping cunt to his face. He draws in a deep breath, his eyes rolling back in his head she smells so sweet. He wants to drain her to her dregs. “Fuck, you smell so good I just might fuck you to death,” he growls at her, sounding feral. 

“I won't stop you,” she breathes, her pupils blown wide and dark as a stormy sea.

“I think I’ll have a taste first,” he grunts, leering at the feast before him like a man starved. 

Minutes later she screams out his name as her first release hits and he crawls over her slowly, trailing kisses up her body as he does.

“Jon,” she sighs.

“Ready for more?” he softly purrs into her ear, making her shudder.

“Always,” she breathes.

He raises up, kneeling between her spread thighs. All he need do is slip inside her swollen channel and it would be over in moments, both left sated and spent, instead he grabs her legs up, pinning them against his chest, her ankles crossed at his right ear. With an arm around her lower legs and a firm grip of his hand upon her thigh, their eyes meet and a silent trust is made. The fire between them ignites into an inferno as he buries himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust, their shouts exultant and unrestrained.

They have their own language, rare and secret. It can be hushed whispers and fleeting glances, touches soft, tongues spilling slow stories across fevered skin, all held and woven true between their souls. 

But there is also a wildness.

More often than not they must keep their emotions muted, it wouldn't do to let the their dragon blood go unchecked upon their subjects. So that wildness lies in wait, boiling and rising like an angry ocean within their veins. Its flow is constant, fervent or composed, it never stops, forever flowing between them, deep into their bones, into their souls, connecting them together. It bides its time for moments like this, when they’re alone, without the weights of duty swinging from their necks to unleash itself.

Once free, it can rage fierce and savage, shocking even him, the waves of it whipping her into submission. She can only lay back and let him take her places unknown. 

Other times it's gentle, like the ocean after a storm. Calm, serene, every ripple felt, his hands never idle, but soft as a whisper against her skin.

But gentle isn't needed today. 

Daenerys thrashes below him, head thrown back, snatches of air being sucked down her keening throat as her cunt grips and fights each vicious stroke he makes. He pushes her until pleasure and pain are a turbulent fever holding her on the edge of ecstasy, determined to never let her fall. Soon she’s begging, her cries cutting through his carnal haze. 

He eases her torment, stopping his violent thrusts and scooping her up. Gently rolling them over, he helps her straddle his hips. “How about this?” he coos, running soothing fingers up and down her heaving back, allowing a moment for her to catch her breath.

She doesn't want it. “Yes,” she gasps, rising on trembling arms, then leaning down and taking his mouth in a rough kiss. 

She grinds against him, pulling him in deep, hips rolling like waves over him, her pulsing walls, luscious velvet intent on wringing him dry. He groans, the tables now turned. He’s reached the breaking point all too soon.

Her fingers slide into his hair, gripping it tightly as she stares into his eyes, her own dark with desire as her walls begin to flutter around him. ”Together, Jon,” she orders.

With one move the queen leaves her king defenseless.

His lets out a carnal growl as he drives his hips up into hers at a furious pace, his release built at the base of his spine and deep in his loins to a burning spike, lingering just on the brink, held back from the fall by only a thin thread. 

He watches her, the earth grinding to a halt in the few seconds before she comes apart at the seams, violet eyes disappearing behind heavy lids, pink plumps lips open and gasping for air, skin flushed to a fevered glow, delicate limbs trembling. 

Then she screams, her entire body convulsing over him and he can wait no more. A guttural roar rips through him, his being seized by a great and violet tide, flinging him into the abyss to fly for an age.

Like a summer storm that's spent itself they fade into peace, Jon sinking into the blankets beneath, Daenerys strewn across his chest. Both content to lie still and bask in the afterglow, two bare bodies intertwined, no cares to trouble them while thrumming hearts slow to soothing beats. 

 

\---

 

Daenerys’ squirming pulls him from a deep sleep, his eyes squinting open against the bright sunlight to find her sitting over him, her face scrunched in an amused but concerned frown. 

“Oh, my sweet love,” she coos at him, and he wonders if he might have been too rough and she’s bumped her head and thinking he’s Jae.

“What’s wrong?” he grunts, his voice still gruff and heavy from sleep. “You alright?”

“I'm fine, it's you.” She takes a fingertip, pressing it to one of his cheekbones, then the other, and his nose, then pokes her way across his chest. “We cooked you.”

Jon lifts his head and sure enough he’s pink as a ripe spring plum. “Nothin’ to worry about, love. I’ll be alright. Stand up and let's see you.” She carefully lifts herself off him, their skin sticking with heat and their mess. He twirls his finger in the air. “Turn round.” Scoffing, he stands up, snarling at her playfully as he walks to her, running a hand up her side. “You were every bit as pale as me and look at ya, as toasty brown as baked bread. How is that fair?”

“Sorry,” she winces, lip trapped between her teeth to hold back a grin. “Shall we get you covered up and find some shade? We should probably be finding where we want to sleep tonight.” 

“Aye, we should,” he agrees, kissing her forehead and giving a good smack to her arse to get her moving. 

After a rinse off, they dress once more, then gather up their blankets and food. He helps her onto her pony then jumps onto his own and off they set, following the path Missandei's map lays out for them to the sunrise spot.

They graze on fruit and drink plenty of water as they ride along beside the stream that runs from their pool. It only takes a half hour or so for the trees to thin and they emerge onto a high meadow that seems to run off the edge of the world, a sparkling sea laying just beyond.

 

\---

 

Dany sighs happily from the back of her horse, propping her hands on its rump so she can lean back and watch the treetops sway in the breeze, the sky beyond glittering bright blue and clear as the sun begins to reach its zenith. 

As wonderful as it had been to have a night away, she wants her baby. Not only are her breasts full and cramping, she wants to hold her and press her nose to her sweet hair and just breathe her in, feel her little hands pat her face affectionately, even her wet kisses on her lips. Dany feels a tug of guilt at missing so much time with her, knowing her missed moon blood means Jaena’s time as the only baby is now limited. _How to tell him?_ She promises herself to think of something special, and soon. 

She turns and looks back at him, her face breaking into an involuntary smile at his grin as he watches her. “You’re the one melting this time,” he accuses, riding up next to her. 

“I’m enjoying this,” she protests, repeating his words from the day before. “I’m in a bit of a hurry to get back, though. I’m engorged and I miss her.”

“Shit,” he curses. “I didn’t think that part through very well.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t either,” she assures him. “I’m glad we didn’t linger any longer, though.”

Her horse picks up the pace without her urging, and she can smell smoke. _Almost there, sweetheart. I’m almost home to you._

They ride up to their own hut and Jon dismounts first, coming to her side and lifting her down onto her feet, careful to not jostle her too much. “Where’s my baby?” Dany coos, walking up the steps. 

“MMMMMUMM mmmmmmmm,” she calls back from inside, and Dany peeks in to see her, standing and holding onto the edge of a shelf built into the wall. 

“Look at you!” Dany exclaims, rushing in and sweeping her up, kissing her face. Oh, her hair smells like home, sweet and clean and warm like the breeze outside. 

Jaena pats her breast, and Dany winces. “Yes,” she whispers, taking her back toward their bed. “Come with me.” 

She doesn’t bother trying to wrestle with the dress she’s wearing, she simply strips it off and pulls the thick silk coverlet over them both snugly as Jaena latches on with a happy sigh. “Oh thank gods,” she murmurs in relief, the pain ebbing from her with every suckle. She buries her nose in her baby’s soft curls again, loving every moment of holding her. 

“Did she eat for you?” Dany asks as Missandei walks quietly across the room. 

“She did eat last night, though she’s been fussy this morning and not wanting anything to do with food,” she admits. “I promised her you were coming back, so she’s held out.”

“Oh goodness,” Dany laments, bending her head back down to kiss her. “My poor little girl. I hope that means you’ll want the other side too.”

Jon’s unmistakable footsteps cross the floor and stop, he looks down at the comfortable pallet of silks and cushions, smiling at them. He doesn’t say anything, just watches as Dany rolls to her side to face him, Jaena wasting no time in feeding from the other side. “She waited for me,” she whispers to him. “I feel awful.”

“Why?” he asks gently. “You were completely full and ready to go when we got here. She’s going to get her fill for certain.” He pauses and then jests, “She’s not going to waste away from the lack of food anytime soon, Daenerys. Look at her, the fat lil’ pup can barely hold herself up under her own weight.”

Jaena turns to look at him, milk leaking from Dany down into the bed beneath them before she remembers what she was doing and latches back on, her hand flailing in Jon’s direction, wanting him. “Hey, my darlin’. I’m comin’,” he whispers, stripping off his shirt and settling on the edge of the bed so she could reach him, patting his face and sighing as her lids flutter shut sleepily, comforted by her parents. 

“When she’s done, it’s my turn to love her,” he whispers, leaning closer and kissing first Dany and then the top of Jaena’s head of curls. “I’m realizing how much I missed her.”

“Let’s go see the beach together when the sun starts to set,” she suggests. “Just the three of us. We leave in the morning, and I want to soak up as much of this beautiful place as I can.”

“Aye, we can do that,” he agrees easily. 

Voices lilt in from the doorway, a younger woman leaning in and speaking to Missandei in a language that sounded more like music than words before leaving again. “They’re making the roasted root vegetable for Jaena again, she loved it so much last night. Tutu wants to send some home with you to plant for her,” Missandei says quietly. 

Dany disengages herself from her now sleeping babe and sits up, easing herself from the sleeping mats without disturbing either her dozing husband or snoring baby. “What would they like in return?” she asks, her voice barely more than a murmur. “I am interested in opening trade with Naath like in the old days.”

“In the past, we traded the silks for olive oil, pottery, and spices,” Missandei answers simply. “Occasionally wheat.”

Dany considers it carefully. “We’ve renewed trade with Qarth, so stopping to drop spices on the shore in exchange for silks would be no trouble at all as long as the sailors came in at night as in years past . . .” she muses. “We replanted all the olive trees in Meereen and sent more to Yunkai and Astapor to boost their commerce . . . having a trade partner ready to receive the oil would be wonderful.” She reaches out and wraps a length of silk around herself and tucks it in the way she’d seen other women do and sighs as she admires the sheen and depth of the green and gold pattern. “I feel as though I never want to wear anything else.”

“I think,” Missandei says, “Perhaps copper vessels from the artisans in Meereen would be a better choice than stoneware.”

Dany thinks it over and nods, recalling the condition of the dye tubs. “I don’t presume to know what is needed here, that’s entirely for the elders to decide. I would like to bring prosperity to Meereen, especially to the artisans who were hurting most by no longer having owners to sell their wares. We’ll discuss this with Jon when he wakes, and I hope we’ll be able to make a mutually prosperous offer this evening.”

“I’m awake,” he mumbles, rubbing his face with one hand sleepily. “Every time I lay with you two while she’s feeding . . . I fall asleep.”

“So sleep,” she suggests. 

“Was busy listening to my wife at work,” he teases lightly. “Consider the matter discussed. We’ll work out the details in everyone’s favor and then take it home to Tyrion.”

She nods. “He’ll be pleased,” she agrees. “Will it help remove guilt that we left under the premise of having quiet, private time? If we come home with new trading partners . . . “

“Who is feeling guilty for leavin’?” he teases. “Not I. I’m glad to leave that stinking shithole for a little while.”

“Jon,” she chastises. “It’s where we’re needed.”

“Aye, but I don’t have to like it,” he protests. “Tyrion’s handling everything just fine, I bet.”

“Well, the last time I left him in charge . . .” she mutters, thinking back to when she’d escaped the fighting pit on Drogon in Meereen, she’d come back to the Yunkish and Astapori laying siege to her city. 

“That was hardly his fault,” Jon chuckles, catching his daughter’s hand as she pats his face in her sleep to keep her from aggravating his burn. “And you got back in time before any real damage was done. Want to go see the beach?”

“In your state?” she asks blankly. “I think you’ve had enough sun for a few days. Let's wait until evening.”

“Come back down here and nap with us then,” he says, reaching his hand out in invitation. 

“We’ve been terrible guests,” she protests, though she’s already moving toward them, pulling at her silk wrap, her place in the bed wide open and waiting. 

“Keep that on,” he whispers. “It looks beautiful on you.”

 

\---

 

Dany glances back at the shore and her heart leaps joyfully into her throat. “Look behind you,” she tells him huskily, fighting tears and juggling an active baby to keep her from falling overboard. 

Jon looks behind him, Grey Worm and Missandei following them in a Naathi canoe paddled by two men. “What in the hells?” he demands, a grin on his face as he turns to look at her. “Are they . . .”

“I don’t know,” she responds, grateful when Jon asks the sailors to slow down so they can catch them up. 

As the canoe glides up next to their dinghy, Dany lets her heart lead her movement as she reaches out and takes Missandei’s hand. “Home is where our chosen family is,” Missandei says simply, and Dany lets out a sob of joy as Jon grabs her friend by the elbow to help her in and Grey Worm holds the boats together. 

As Missandei and Grey Worm settle into the dinghy with fond farewells to the men in the canoe, Jaena shrieks with laughter and grabs a handful of Missandei’s bright blue and red silk dress to pull herself into her lap.

**Author's Note:**

> We may continue this at some point, if the mood strikes us. Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
